Safe Space
by Sam-Tony
Summary: New to Miami, Speed gets into a bit of trouble. Good thing Horatio is there to get him out of it. Hints of bdsm. Slash HoratioSpeed, HoratioRiddickSpeed, HoratioRiddickSpeedEric implied. Prequel to Sub Space.


Safe Space

He still remembers the first time he found himself in a sex club in Miami.

Not as high end as The Blue Feather; not even close. No, the CockTail had been one of the lowest, seediest places in the city - and the only one a newly arrived Tim Speedle had been able to find. But that night - that night he had needed it, badly. His first day at his new job and Speed had somehow managed to screw up not one test result but three. Not to mention his new boss had been the Calm, Inscrutable type with a side gene of Slight Sympathetic Smiles.

And that had plain pissed Speed off. Bad enough to get the 'disappointed parent' routine from his parents but to get the same look, albeit a kinder version, from his new boss had been too much. So two minutes sharp after shift, an angry, unsettled Speed had all but ran from the Miami-Dade crime labs and into the most convenient leather bar he could find.

CockTail. And not a rougher bunch of sadists would be found in the greater Miami-Dade area. Two minutes after walking through the front door, Speed had known he was in trouble. Two minutes after that had found him on his knees in a filthy back corner, trying desperately not to lose his lunch or his life. That was, until a sinkingly familiar voice above him quietly warned the 300 pound biker holding his head against his crotch to let him go.

Speed hadn't known what to feel - between the embarrassment, the relief and the sudden fear for his rescuer, Speed had been frozen in place, unable to move. To his surprise though the man immediately let him go and disappeared somewhere towards the front of the bar. Leaving Speed to kneel on the dirty, sticky floor, surrounded by the sounds of rough sex and cruel laughter, not knowing what to say, his face and neck burning a fierce, painful red. Unable to move or look up, his dark shame discovered already.

Only to find his boss taking his would-be rapist's seat in front of him. He remembered thinking it strange that the biker had given up so easily. Strange that, sitting in a blatantly gay leather bar, surrounded by graphic and illegal displays of public sex, his boss seemed as unaffected by it all as he had that morning's grizzly crimescene. Strange that, at least a good fifteen years older than the other men standing around, still wearing that day's suit and silk/cotton work shirt, giving him that look, his boss was suddenly the sexiest thing in the place.

He remembered the look in those blue eyes; no longer aloof sympathy. The heat in them startling him. But it had been the compassion that proved to be his undoing.

Horatio had saved him that night; had given him a safe place in his own home to sleep and sort himself out. They had talked for hours, hitting on every single thing Tim had desperately wanted and tried to leave behind in New York. His parents. The accident that had killed his best friend. Speed's own weird version of survivor's guilt. Horatio had fed him and they had talked about the reasons that had pushed Speed to run from the labs and into the bar. What he wanted...

...and who he wanted it from.

Timothy Speedle had belonged to Horatio Caine ever since.

He remembered the second night that had found him on the Miami Scene, only this time collared, plugged and chained, led around in the redhead's wake. Though the whole Master/slave scene wasn't what Speed needed on a regular basis, sometimes Horatio would take him out, giving him the opportunity to let go and fall, solid in his faith that his lover would catch him.

That night also introduced him to his second lover and quasi-Master, Riddick.

Detective Richard Riddick worked Vice, and had known the redhead since Horatio's own brief stint in the department. Horatio had upped the stakes that night and never had any of them had cause to regret it. Between Horatio, Riddick, the rings, clamps and chains he had been forced to wear, Speed hadn't been able to sit at all the following day.

But who needed to sit when you were flying?

That day the lab had gotten a new CSI slash diver and little did Speed realize his world had been about to change again. The first sight of Eric Delko had left him speechless. The sight of Horatio leaning hands-on on the smooth steel railing in front of his second story office, not to mention the speculative, predatory little smile, had started his heart to beating double-time. It was a wonder Delko hadn't thought Speed a little simple with the way he had acted before he had been able to get himself back under control.

Nothing had happened, though, despite that predatory smile - unless you counted the fact that Horatio had showed up at Speed's apartment an hour after shift and fucked him witless. In every way Speed had known and a couple that had been an intensely pleasurable surprise. By the time Horatio had left, Speed had been unable to lift his sore but boneless body from the bed, much less work a crimescene. Good thing it had been his day off...

Now here they were, all four of them, coming full circle for Speed and - if they played their cards right - beginning such for Eric.

The Blue Feather may be a quasi-illegal sex club but it was as high-end as the CockTail was low. And they were well known here, Riddick, Horatio and Speed, albeit not by their real names; though mostly Riddick (Ice for his sometimes cold, silver eyes) played Master with Horatio (Fire for the brilliant red hair) a silent partner, Speed the adored and adoring submissive. That was the reason the biker had backed off so quickly that night - Fire especially was well known on Scene as someone you absolutely did not mess with. Doubly so if Ice was with him. Noone was foolish enough - or stupid enough - to get in their way when the pair wanted something.

And tonight they wanted Eric.

Kneeling at Horatio's feet, Eric trying hard not to fidget beside him, Speed had no doubt Delko was confused if not downright scared shitless. He also knew that Eric was interested, and not just by the massive erection trying valiantly to tent the front of the 'slave's' black leather pants. He hadn't been the only one to catch the furtive side glances, quickly averted, or the following shy, schoolboy blushes or stammering changes in conversation. It was cute. Eric was just too cute for words sometimes and that just made the overwhelming desire to push him into the closest bathroom stall and have his wicked way with him that much harder to resist.

Speed could see that - just corner him in the men's room at CSI one day and push him up against the wall...Eric's hands braced flat against the wall, Speed's hands under his shirt, flat palms stroking the hard, smooth muscles...the way Eric would moan and tremble, maybe even whimper, begging as one of Speed's hands found its way down to unbutton and unzip Eric's pants before burrowing its way inside his underwear to the hard prize underneath...

Riddick's amused, "Like what you see, pet?" and subvocal growl brought Speed back from staring out into space and back to Eric beside him. To watch the Cuban shiver at the question, his eyes dart back to the floor, teeth biting his lower lip. Like he said, too cute. It really was a good thing Vice needed info, and that Riddick had caught the case. Made the setting the trap so much easier.

Speed had no idea just what Horatio and Riddick had in mind to show Eric that what he wanted was right in front of him and available for the taking, but he also knew his two lovers had a plan.

He grinned. And that poor, straight vanilla Eric Delko didn't stand a chance.


End file.
